Wherever You Are
by HalfASlug
Summary: Having taken a small step forward in his relationship with Ellie, Hardy is now left with the seemingly impossible task of taking another. Sequel to Whatever You Make Me.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hello! This is the sequel to one of my other Broadchurch stories called Whatever You Make Me. You might want to read that before reading this. Or just power through and be confused every so often. Who am I to tell you how to live your life?_

 _This chapter doesn't have any Ellie, but she will be in the next one. However, this chapter does have some non-explicit references to child abuse._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Broadchurch._

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Water. It always came back to the water. **  
**

It had been years, but the water still clung to him as he fought to keep his head above the surface.

He still clung to Pippa's heavy limbs.

The smell of her still clung to his clothes.

The memory of her bloated face still clung to his nightmares, waking him up as the water dragged him under and the need to breathe overwhelmed his survival instincts.

Hardy gasped as he sat up and tried to work out where he was. The room slowly pieced itself together in the dark as he blinked, cursing himself for sleeping with his contacts in. The cluttered shelves of new family photos and bright toy box combined with the scent of the blanket he was tangled in gave it away in the end. He was in Miller's front room.

He slumped back onto the sofa, rubbing his eyes. After the day he'd had, Hardy had expected to be able to sleep the whole night through. These days he rarely dreamt of the river and what had happened there. Knowing the truth, as horrible as it had been, had helped. He doubted he'd ever truly leave it behind though, but then he remembered how Cate Gillespie had slurred her words as she thanked him, and he supposed none of them would.

As he rolled over in the hopes of returning to sleep, Hardy heard a noise coming from the kitchen. He froze, so used to living alone that it didn't take much to set him on edge. Instead of an intruder, he heard a chink of glass, the squeak of a tap and the rush of running water.

At least he knew what had inspired the nightmare.

He waited for the person to make their way back upstairs, but after a couple of minutes they were still in the kitchen. Now fully awake, he wondered if it was Miller and if he should join her. Just the idea sent his heart into a weird spasm that made him infinitely grateful to his pacemaker. He had told her that they would talk later and it was technically later, even if it still wasn't morning yet. The main problem, the one that had him pinned to the sofa, was he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

Running various conversation starters through his mind, he found he couldn't get much further past "hi" before the whole thing dissolved into him making an idiot of himself. It wasn't until now that he could appreciate how simple the evening had been for him compared to what he now faced.

She'd kissed him so he'd kissed her back. It didn't get more straight forward.

Admittedly, this was Miller, so the moment she realised she was being vaguely nice to him, she'd flipped and stormed off.

Being left in the living room, feeling as though he'd just been thrown out of a plane, had been one of the more disorienting moments of his life. About three minutes before he'd been washing a plate and now everything in his life appeared to have changed.

He'd always been a man who knew his strengths and his weakness and Hardy knew in that moment he did not have the words or the charm to deal with the situation. Maybe a couple of months before he could've let her walk away, try and get some sleep and hope the whole thing would blow over, but he'd let too many things slip by him in recent years. It felt like all he did was throw himself in harm's way to protect others, and he'd do it again, but for once maybe he could do something for purely selfish reasons?

He had no idea when she went from being irritating to his best friend to the place his mind always drifted to, but he'd stopped denying how he felt about her a few weeks ago. Well, to himself, at least. He had no plans on telling her, seeing as she was still piecing her life back together and didn't need him.

But then she'd kissed him. Flirting wasn't exactly second nature to him, but even he could pick up a signal _that_ obvious. All he had to do was somehow communicate to her that he approved of kissing each other without insulting her, making himself sound desperate or going all out and telling her that he might possibly be a bit in love with her.

If you'd asked, even directly afterwards, how long he'd stood in the living room, building his resolve to just walk in there and kiss her, Hardy wouldn't have known. Though time had passed extraordinarily slowly at the time, it still felt like a blur in his memories, until somehow they were kissing in her kitchen.

Nothing could have stopped the smile spreading across his face as he lay in the dark.

It was a dim possibility, but there was a chance he might not ruin whatever was happening. He'd had a rough couple of years, but he was slowly turning it around. His mother's words came back to him as they had nearly every day since she had died: _God will put you in the right place even if you don't know it at the time._

Not giving himself the chance to talk himself out of it, Hardy rose to his feet and made his way into the kitchen. Even squinting against the sudden light he could tell that he'd psyched himself up for nothing.

"Tom?"

"What're you doing here?" Tom asked with a gasp.

"Your mother said I could sleep on the sofa tonight," Hardy replied. He dug his hands into his pockets and noticed Tom was holding a box of ibuprofen along with his glass of water. "You all right?"

Tom nodded but everything from how he was holding himself to the way he was shuffling around the kitchen table said otherwise.

"Ribs hurting?"

"A bit."

"Didn't you go to bed with some painkillers?"

"Yeah, but they wore off and it woke me up," Tom replied through gritted teeth. "I just came down for some more. Sorry for waking you up. Didn't know you were here."

Hardy sighed. "Sit down."

It was a sign of how much pain Tom was in that he didn't question Hardy's instructions. Now that his eyes had properly adjusted to the kitchen light, he could see Tom's eyes were brimming with tears that he was clearly fighting to hold back.

"You taken the painkillers?" Hardy asked and Tom nodded. "Right, get your top off."

"What?"

Hardy ignored Tom's protest and moved towards the fridge-freezer. He rooted around and found a bag of frozen peas. Turning around, he saw Tom was still staring at him.

"Top off, I said."

"Why?"

Remembering that the boy was probably in agony was the only thing that stopped Hardy from snapping at him. "If you hold these peas against your shirt it'll get wet, you'll likely catch a cold and your mother will throw things at me."

Tom struggled out of his pyjama shirt without further argument. As Hardy passed him the bag of peas he saw the angry bruises spread across his side and winced internally.

"This'll help numb the pain before the pills kick in," he explained as he settled into the chair across from Tom. "Should help a bit with the swelling as well."

"How do you know all this?"

"You're not the first one to get a good hiding."

Hardy regretted answering when he saw Tom's eyes go wide. He'd forgotten how inquisitive children could be.

"Why did you get beat up?"

"I'm a policeman."

"Mum's never been beaten up."

"Your mum never worked in Glasgow."

"Oh," Tom replied, readjusting the bag against his side. "Is that why you don't live in Scotland now?"

For a moment, Hardy was lost in memories of tense visits to his parents' house after his mother died and how it felt less like a home then than it had ever done before. He stood and walked over to the kettle to make himself a cup of tea as an excuse to not reply. As the water boiled, he noticed how similar the move was to when he'd ran away from Glasgow at the first opportunity for an excuse not to rebuild the relationship he barely had with a man he could hardly recognise.

Thankfully Tom was better at taking hints than Miller and the pair of them lapsed into a comfortable silence, only broken by the rustling of the bag of peas and Hardy making tea. He was halfway through drinking the cup when Tom spoke again.

"Thanks again. For showing up."

Unsure of what else to do, Hardy took another sip of tea. "Don't mention it."

"I know, but…" Tom frowned as though he couldn't find the words. "You didn't have to go the hospital. You could've just - I dunno - phoned someone else. It's not like you're even my mum's boss anymore."

Though he tried to stop it, Hardy's mind went straight to just how unprofessional his relationship with Miller had become in the past couple of hours. He was strangely tempted to confess all to Tom, to ask for some kind of approval or insight into what his mum could possibly be thinking, but even he knew it would be a disaster.

It didn't stop his eyes wandering over to the spot where he'd kissed her. If he concentrated he could still feel her breath against his lips, her hand twisting his shirt…

"Yeah, well," he coughed. "I meant it. You can contact me any time for anything, okay?"

Tom grinned. "X-Box games?"

"Don't try your luck."

The beginnings of dawn were starting to creep into the kitchen by the time Hardy had finished his drink. He took the half-defrosted peas from Tom as he cleared his mug away and returned them to the freezer. He doubted he'd be able to get any sleep with the birds making a racket outside but it made sense to try. Once Tom had assured him he felt better, he wished him "goodnight" and shuffled back to living room.

He'd barely sat down when he heard a knock from the doorway.

"Hardy?" Tom said, his voice shaking slightly. "Can… can I ask you something? But you can't tell my mum?"

Hardy met his eye before replying. "'Course. But I will tell your mum if I think I need to."

"Why would you need to?"

"If you're in danger," Hardy told him with a shrug. "Or if someone else is."

"Right." Tom frowned at his bare feet, still hovering by the door. Hardy waited patiently as he steeled himself to look up again. "I-I've been doing research and stuff. Into people like Joe," he clarified.

"Ah." Hardy sat forward and clasped his hands together.

Tom hesitated. "It's just… I read this thing that said that it - it's like an illness? Something's wrong in their heads? And that's why they do… that."

"Aye," Hardy replied softly. "It's one of the theories."

"So if something went wrong with his brain and - and I'm his son, then doesn't that mean that…" Tom's voice cracked and he squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, they were void of tears but the fear was unmistakeable. "Couldn't I-?"

Hardy shook his head. "You're not him, Tom."

"How do you know?" he fired back and Hardy could almost feel the pain radiating off him. Since finding Danny's body, all those months ago, he'd seen how that one crime had ruined so many lives. It sickened him to his stomach that the ripples were still being felt now, that Joe Miller's actions were finding new ways to hurt people even without him around.

With Tom looking at him with such desperation, he wondered what he should say, if anything at all. In the end, he settled for what he would've wanted to hear: the truth.

"Joe could have ended that trial any time he wanted," he began. "He could've plead guilty to start with. He could've changed his plea at any point. Instead, he sat there and watched as his friends, his colleagues, his family - even you - were torn apart by his solicitors. Every minute of every day of that ordeal, he sat there in silence, hoping to save himself like the coward he is.

"Why did you call me yesterday?" Hardy asked.

Tom blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "Couldn't get anyone else."

"No, you couldn't get your mum, aunt or Olly," he corrected. "What about Beth? You've got the Latimer's number, yes? Or Mark? You've got his mobile. He drives, works locally and he's self-employed. You're telling me he wouldn't have helped you?"

"Probably, but…" Tom swallowed.

"He'd have wanted to know why you'd been hurt," Hardy finished for him. "Rather than bringing up Joe and Danny and hurting them, you went to the hospital by yourself. Very brave thing to do."

"Yeah, but-"

"You're not like him, Tom. Not where it counts."

For a second, Tom looked as though he was going to argue. Instead, he stood in the doorway looking more like a lost child than the teenager he'd spent most of the day with. Eventually, he gave Hardy a stiff nod and shuffled away.

Hardy listened to his footsteps heading upstairs with a heaviness in his chest. For someone so young, Tom had been handling Danny's death and the fallout from it remarkably well from what Hardy had seen. He knew there were probably times when he hadn't been, but Miller hadn't mentioned it.

It was only as he covered himself in the blanket once more that he realised that if he did manage to start a relationship with Miller, then Tom and Fred would be part of that package. Strangely, the idea didn't faze him as much as he thought it might. After all, he was one of wee Fred's favourite people - somehow - and Tom apparently trusted him.

As he felt himself drifting back to sleep, it occurred to him that being a part of Tom and Fred's life didn't even feel like an obligation, but something he wanted to do, despite his still shaky relationship with his own daughter.

 _God will put you in the right place._

For the first time in a long time, he hoped that wherever his mother was now, she could see him.

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 _Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hello! Sorry about the wait! Life is a bit bleh right now. It shouldn't be as long before the next chapter as most of it is written. However, it's on paper so it needs typing up and stuff as well as editing. I'm really, really, really grateful to everyone still reading/following/reviewing this so thanks!_

 _Disclaimer: I'm still not Chibnall or ITV_

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When the next day finally arrived Hardy waited until he heard someone coming down the stairs before getting up himself. Given the fragility of the current situation he didn't want to startle Miller too much by making breakfast for everyone or insulting her by _not_ making breakfast for everyone. At least if he could claim he was asleep, he'd start off in neutral territory.

Trying to keep his movements as casual as possible, Hardy followed the sound of the now boiling kettle into the kitchen. Unlike last night, the Miller he found there was dark-haired, female and the reason his palms were sweaty all of a sudden.

She was already dressed and, judging by the flowery smell that engulfed him, showered and had even taken the time to dry her hair before coming downstairs. Hardy hoped this was normal behaviour rather than her avoiding him.

"Morning."

"Morning!" Miller replied, still fussing with the mugs in front of her. "Tea?"

"Yeah."

She gave him a quick smile over her shoulder and went back to fixing the drinks with more concentration than was surely necessary. Hardy wondered whose responsibility it was to bring up the kiss. Kisses. By the time they'd gone to bed they'd both played an equal part. Should he try and kiss her again? That had gone well last time he'd tried it.

He watched on, still stood in the doorway, as she shoved bread into the toaster and wittered on about how the seagulls had woken her up. Snogging her out of the blue before breakfast was probably a bit aggressive. Besides, he hadn't brushed his teeth and it'd be just his luck that she'd be willing to put up with a pacemaker, bad temper and bleak worldview but not bad breath. Maybe just a peck on the cheek?

The whole thing would've been so much easier if she was facing him. Or if she wasn't an entire five feet away from him. They were hardly an ocean apart, but it didn't mean his legs were any more capable of crossing the distance.

"Sit down," Miller said, taking a break from her cheery monologue. "You're making the place look untidy."

"Right," he mumbled as he pulled the nearest chair out.

Now sat down, he had even less chance to somehow casually approach her and try and explain everything without actually talking. Waiting until morning had seemed like such a great idea the night before. Now that it was happening, Hardy was cursing himself for not taking the opportunity when there was a moment. Recreating the same atmosphere was going to be impossible.

A cup of tea was placed in front of him. Before he'd touched it, Miller was back at the counter as though buttering the toast was of universal importance. It was fairly obvious now, even to him, that she was doing her soild best to avoid talking to him. He knew her well enough to know that she was likely nervous and just talking to fill the silence that they'd never had any trouble with before.

Hardy also knew how these things could be so easily swept away. If he walked out of the front door without bringing the kiss up then the chances were it'd never be mentioned by either of them again. The thought made his chest clench.

"Miller," he interrupted.

"I suppose you won't have butter on your toast, will you? Sticking with marge?" she inquired, not waiting for an answer before she carried on. "Tom's normally up before me on Saturdays - likes to watch all the football stuff - but I guess he's had a rough night so I'll leave him be. How was the sofa anyway? I remember the other week when-"

"Ellie!"

At his shout, she faltered and finally turned to face him properly. Though he tried to hide it, Hardy knew his frayed nerves had left the note of desperation he'd heard in his own voice written over his face.

The smile that Miller had plastered on the moment he'd entered the kitchen - the smile he hated - faded into the same uncertainty he felt. Her eyes flicked over to the window and then to the floor and he knew she was thinking about the kiss. Was it all a blur to her, like the one in the living room was to him? Or could she remember how she'd refused to let go of him and how he'd been much the same with her? Did the memory keep her awake into the early hours as well?

He held his breath and waited, wanting her to lay the foundations of the conversation, knowing she probably needed to talk her way through her feelings, wishing she'd just say _something-_

And then she looked at him and he saw it. All of it. The fear that her already fragile heart couldn't take another blow, that she'd misread everything between them, that she didn't know what she was meant to do.

Under that, however, there was a hint of tenderness he suspected was a reflection from his own expression. Apprehension fighting affection and hope against hesitancy, all waiting for one of them to take the risk and let the other catch them.

Just when he thought he'd have to be the one to break the silence, Miller drew in a breath.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Mum, is that toast going?"

Tom rounded the table and grabbed a slice of toast without waiting for an answer. As Miller pulled him back to check on his stitches and ribs while he rolled his eyes, Hardy stared at the table. It was like the two Millers' conversation was happening in a different room, it sounded so far away to him. It was almost as if his ears had popped.

" _I'm sorry._ "

Granted, he had no idea what she was going to say, but out of all the starting point she could've chosen _that_ didn't exactly hold the most promise. He listened as Tom showed off the bruising around his ribs and Miller fussed around, asking how he slept, and felt thoroughly out of place. Gulping his tea down and wishing he could blend into the wall, he realised Miller was probably too caught up in Tom's attack to spare him a thought.

Hardy couldn't believe he could've been as selfish as to overlook everything else in her life. With each passing moment, he recalled how it wasn't just Tom, but Fred was ill as well, and how he'd chosen _that_ as his moment to complicate everything further. By the time Tom was sighing over his mother insisting she cut his toast up for him in case he hurt his lip, Hardy was about ready to crawl out of the front door in the hopes no one saw him.

With all of this, he found he still couldn't face leaving without discussing the kiss. Even if it was to just apologise for his timing or behaviour rather than explain his reasons, then at least he could get some read on what Miller was thinking. It could be that she just needed time or maybe she just wanted to talk to Tom first. There was no way of knowing if she refused to look at him.

"You'll have to be careful around Fred," Miller was telling Tom. "You know what he's like."

Tom nibbled a bit of toast. By the looks of things, Miller had been right in thinking eating bigger pieces might hurt. "I'm going to need a restraining order."

"I'm sure he'll understand. He's probably not going to be in the mood to play much anyway, not for a couple of days."

"Have you heard anything from Lucy?"

"Yeah, she text me earlier. Slept most of the night but he's been grouchy since he woke up."

"He could just be taking after you?" Tom remarked cheekily and Miller swatted him with a tea towel.

"She's bringing him back for half past," Miller added with a glance at Hardy. "You've not got long if you want to avoid the germs."

Hardy placed his mug back on the table and watched Miller tidying the table with a fake smile and no attempt to look at him again. It didn't take a detective to know what she was hinting at and it had nothing to do with Fred or his health. She wanted him out of the house before Lucy showed up, learnt he'd spent the night and asked awkward questions.

He waited, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible, for her to give him another option or any hint that she would speak to him alone, but it was in vain. Knowing Tom was listening, he drained the last of his drink.

"I need to be off soon anyway," he said, hating himself for playing along with her game. "Work and all. Need to see Daisy too."

"Fred'll flip if he finds out you were here," Tom said, eyes still on his breakfast. "He never shuts up about you after he's seen you."

"He only knows about three words," Hardy pointed out and both Millers glared at him. "What?"

"What Fred doesn't know won't hurt him," Miller told Tom.

Hardy stood and straightened his suit jacket as best he could. It was the only item of clothing he hadn't slept in so it was the only thing stopping him from looking a complete mess. "I best make a move. Look after yourself, Tom," he said extending his hand to him.

Tom blinked a couple of times, shocked by the suddenness of his departure. Hardy wished he'd just play along so this awkward battle could be over. "Yeah. You, too," he answered eventually, shaking his hand using his good arm.

"Try and rest up, yeah?" Hardy added. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do. Thanks. Again."

Hardy nodded and looked to Miller. She'd stood with him but had made no other acknowledgement of him.

"I'll just-"

"Yeah."

"Probably phone you in the week?"

"Great."

"Yeah."

Clearing his throat, Hardy pushed his chair under the kitchen table and headed for the door. The whole scene was happening in slow motion as he waited to see if she'd follow him. His mind was practically screaming at the rest of him to stop and ask to talk to her but it wasn't happening. He'd not felt less in control of his own body since he was last sedated.

He'd already pulled his shoes on and checked his pockets for his keys and wallet, before she eventually edged into the hallway. The way she approached him, he'd have been forgiven for thinking there was a lion in her porch.

"Got everything?" she asked and he could hear the strain in her voice.

"Think so."

He stepped out of the front door, but turned before leaving her porch. This was it. There was a matter of seconds before he was in his car and driving away from whatever had happened between them in the dying hours of yesterday. A sense of desperation settled over him, making his fingers tingle and his mouth dry. Maybe it was just because it'd been a while since he'd last had one, but he was sure he'd had more enjoyable heart attacks than this feeling.

He had so much to say - too much to say - in too short a time and no idea if he was allowed to say any of it in the first place. Miller's gaze was fastened to his knees and he realised the moment had passed hours ago. His words would only fall short, like sand through his fingers as he tried to keep hold of it.

Then she looked up, biting her lip. "See you soon."

Something in her eyes made his breath catch. The cold light of morning had changed things, but the glint of vulnerability he saw there was still the same. A fierce sense of protectiveness overtook him.

"See you, Miller," he said before leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

Before she could open her eyes again, he left the porch, squinting at the bright light and was in his car. He didn't exhale until it was in gear and he was reversing out of his space.

The short journey through Broadchurch to the one road that led out of it felt as though it took forever yet no time at all. Each mile of tarmac that passed underneath him, was another further away from Miller and the possibility that he wasn't alone in what he was feeling. It was a miracle he didn't have an accident, considering how preoccupied he was.

It wouldn't have been too difficult to have told her how he felt after he'd kissed her. Especially after she'd kissed him back in a way that had him convinced that she wanted it - wanted _him_. Looking back, he was sure none of his actions could have been confused for anything other than what they were.

Then there was the kiss as he left.

There was no way in hell that Miller didn't know how he felt. How she had behaved that morning started to make sense. While she spoke her mind and didn't take shit from anyone, Miller wasn't the type to hurt someone intentionally. If she regretted what happened and couldn't work out a way to let him down gently, then putting it off to work out a way would make sense. Or just to pretend it never happened and hope he got the hint.

And he still kissed her as he left.

When he reached the top of the hill leading out of Broadchurch and the swirling thoughts in his head became too much, Hardy pulled over. He scrambled out of his seatbelt, almost fell out of the car and kicked his front wheel.

Anything would have been better than such an obvious display of affection. A light joke or passing comment would have at least cleared the air, but kissing her - even just on the cheek - was as good as laying his cards of the table. Chances were, Miller was simply caught in the moment and didn't feel anything remotely romantic towards him and now she knew it wasn't the same for him. She knew and everything would change because of that. He'd probably ended up ruining his relationship with one of his only friends just because he couldn't keep it together for twelve hours.

"Shit!" he shouted out over the town below him. He thought he could make out the cul-de-sac where Lucy would be dropping Fred off about then, but he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that Miller was down there somewhere, going over the situation in her own head, and he'd give anything to know what she was thinking.

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 _Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks as ever to everybody still reading this! There's one chapter left after this._

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Though he had written many texts to Miller in the day since he'd last seen her, Hardy hadn't sent any of them. Some were rambling apologies, others were pathetic attempts at starting a conversation, but a couple were honest confessions that he knew he was never going to send in the first place.

He wondered if, on the other end of the phone, Miller was jabbing the backspace button as much as he was.

All in all, just as he'd feared, no progress had been made, leading him to believe that they'd taken several steps back instead.

Despite all of this crowding his thoughts, Hardy did his best to push them aside as he drove towards Sandbrook. Following Friday's outburst at school, Daisy had apparently spent the rest of her time holed up in her bedroom and communicating solely in sarcasm and scowling.

"You wanted her back in your life," a haggard sounding Tess had told him on the phone the day before, "then you have to deal with half of these tantrums as well. It's not all trips to the beach, Alec."

Used to her sly digs at his parenting (or lack of), Hardy had decided to not rise to her bait, but had arranged to take Daisy for dinner. Hopefully she'd open up to him about whatever it was that was bothering her. Even if she didn't, he still wasn't taking it for granted that she was answering his calls at all, let alone arranging to meet up with him.

He didn't stay long at the house he had once called home. Not that it looked much like where he had lived, seeing as it had been redecorated almost as soon as he left. It was always odd being back. The house, the street and even the people looked much the same but there were enough changes to always remind him that he didn't belong there anymore. After a couple of minutes of stilted small talk with Tess, Daisy hurried down the stairs and out the door, pointedly ignoring her mother's goodbye.

Tess gave him a forced smile. "She's all yours."

"With a door slam like that?" he scoffed. "She's definitely half yours."

Dinner ended up being a McDonald's. The journey there started off with him asking how she was and getting monosyllabic answers in return. In the end, Hardy let her stew in silence, knowing how irritating it was when people didn't take the hint when he didn't want to talk. By the time they'd pulled into the car park, Daisy was facing forward instead of an almost ninety degree angle away from him, so he thought he might have made the right decision.

She made no comment about his choice as she got out of the car and trudged to the entrance without looking at him. With a sigh, he followed. It was times like this, when his own sparkling personality was reflected back at him, that Hardy understood other people's attitude towards him. He could almost see Miller's disparaging expression.

In the queue Daisy grumbled her order at him then announced she was going to find a table. Though it was still the weekend, the restaurant was fairly empty, with only a handful of families, a few groups of teenagers and the occasional solitary adult nursing a hot drink over a laptop. As Hardy expected, Daisy has chosen a seat by the window as far away from any of the others as possible.

"One Big Mac, Diet Coke and your recommended salt allowance for the week," he said as he placed the tray in front of her.

"If you hate it so much, why did you bring us here?" Daisy asked as she grabbed her drink.

Hardy shrugged. "Always cheered you up when you were younger."

"What? You still think you can fix everything with a Big Mac?" Daisy rolled her eyes and turned to face out of the window.

"I used to be able to fix everything with Happy Meal," he mumbled remembering her as a child eating her food as quickly as they'd allow with one eye on her toy. "Thought you might be a wee bit too old for one of those now."

"Little bit."

"You sure?" He looked over at the garish display, partially obscured by a small boy explaining which toy he hoped to receive to his mother. "I could get you a - yellow blob in dungarees if you really want?"

"I'm good for yellow blobs, Dad."

He squinted at the display. " _How_ are they wearing dungarees? They don't have shoulders. How are the straps staying up?"

"No one cares, Dad."

Her tone had drifting from bored to aggressive again, so Hardy decided to back off for the moment. He unwrapped his own meal (some kind of grilled chicken wrap - the only thing that didn't look deep-fried on the menu) and did his best not to make a face at the limp lettuce that spilled out of the sides.

Daisy had finished her burger and was grazing on her chips before either of them spoke again.

"You going to give me a bollocking or what?" she asked.

Hardy put down his half-finished wrap as his eyebrows shot up his forehead. "I will if you keep using language like that."

Daisy rolled her eyes again and went back to her meal. It was barely five years ago that he could raise his voice or just change his tone and she'd listen to him. Now it was like getting blood out of stone when she was in one of her moods. He couldn't help but compare it to being in an interrogation room, only nothing was being recorded and he had no idea how to proceed.

"What do you want me to say, darling?" he sighed. "I'm your old man and you swore at your English teacher."

"Bitch isn't even swearing!"

"It bloody is!"

"Now who's using foul language?"

"I'm an adult," cried Hardy, rubbing a hand down his face. "Look, you've probably heard this already-"

"Then why say it again?"

"-but you can't talk to teachers like that. You shouldn't be talking to anybody like that."

Daisy slammed her drink down on the table. It would have made an impressive noise had it not been made out of paper. "She had a go at me for talking, right, and it wasn't even me! It was Nadine! And I tried telling her but she sent _me_ out. Why? Because _she's a bitch_."

She sat back as though her point was proved beyond all contention and Hardy could do little more than stare at her.

It wasn't really until now that he fully appreciated that Daisy was a teenager. He'd been through toddler tantrums and thought that was as bad as it could possibly get. Looking at his little princess swear and rage over something so insignificant as though it was a great miscarriage of justice was a problem he didn't entirely know how to confront.

He considered being stern - he was good at that after all - but he knew Tess hadn't been easy on her since the incident. The school certainly hadn't. Then he remembered the way Miller had reached out to Tom when she was asking him about the fight as well as when she was at work. Holding a hand out to the people being questioned, offering them a friend in a scary situation, sometimes did more than pressuring them for answers.

"Are you okay?" Hardy asked hesitantly. "With everything else?"

Straight away, her defences were up. Arms crossed, she stared at him for a moment. "Fine. Why?"

"It's just… It's not like you to completely fly off the handle like that."

Even though he'd barely spoke, Hardy knew he'd said something wrong when Daisy scowled at the ceiling. It was if she was so angry she was worried making direct eye contact with him would hurt him.

"It's not this big thing, okay? My parents got divorced." She shrugged. "Doesn't mean I'm going to start spray painting care homes."

"No one mentioned the divorce."

"You don't have to!" she exclaimed. "You're all looking at me like I'm going to turn into some headcase and I - forget it." Daisy slumped back in her chair, drink in hand and eyes firmly locked on the car park outside. "You won't understand."

The last part had came out barely loud enough for Hardy to hear. Though she was in trouble, his heart broke for her as it looked like she was blinking back tears. She couldn't have been more wrong. He remembered the weeks following his parents divorce clear as day. His mother over-compensating, his teachers checking on him, when all he wanted was to be left to deal with it himself. If anything the constant attention made him clam up more.

"I know you're not going to go off the rails," he told her quietly, "but when something like this happens, it's my job to say something. And I know I haven't been the best at that recently, but I _am_ trying. I'm here now. Just tell me you're happy and this was a one off."

He could see Daisy chewing the inside of her mouth as she continued to avoid looking at him directly. Was she thinking about her answer? Was she on the verge of explaining her behaviour? It was impossible to know. She eventually nodded and hoped one day she'd trust him enough again to answer properly.

Hardy glanced down at what remained of his wrap and couldn't bring himself to inflict any more of it on himself so reached for a couple of fries instead. They were almost cold now, but a liberal amount of ketchup covered most of the taste anyway.

They ate in silence for a while, the chart music being piped in through the speakers contradicting the solemn mood. It wasn't uncomfortable though. Both of them were lost in thought after their understanding had sort of been reached. The past few days for her had probably been filled with arguments and stress. Perhaps it was his role to provide this companionable quiet?

It'd probably been part of why Miller kept coming to his when they weren't working on the case when he still lived in Broadchurch.

If all she'd wanted from him had been a comforting silence then he'd definitely ruined everything from kissing her and hanging around afterwards until she'd pretty much kicked him out.

"Have you heard from Ellie?"

Hardy nearly dropped his chip.

"What?"

Daisy didn't seem to notice that she'd read his mind. "Tom's hurt himself or something," she said in between slurps of her drink. "It was on Facebook. Not that you would've seen it, seeing as you're Amish."

"I'm not Amish."

"Whatever. So have you?"

"Spoke to Ellie?"

"Yeah," said Daisy slowly with a frown. "I wondered how he was is all."

"Why didn't you just ask him on Facebook? Since when did you Facebook Tom anyway?"

Considering how much he knew about social media through his job, it was insulting to see how disappointed Daisy was with him any time he mentioned it in front of her.

"I added him after last time we were down there so I could tag him in photos," she explained as if it had been obvious. "But it's not like I know him enough to _talk_ to him on there. He's like twelve."

"Right," Hardy replied, realising he was clueless when it came Facebook etiquette after all. "He's okay. The doctors reckoned he'd be back to normal in a month or so. He'll be in a bit of pain until then, but he's putting on a brave front at the minute."

"How do you know?"

Hardy hesitated for a split second. "I was there."

"What?" Daisy dramatically dropped her cup on the table and sat forward. "When he got hurt? What were you doing there?"

"He couldn't get hold of any of his family after it happened so he called me when he got to the hospital."

"How could he call you?"

"I gave him my number the other weekend. Don't look at me like that," he added when her eyebrows shot up her forehead. "You're the one with him on your Facebook."

"That's totally different!" she insisted. She went to speak but held it back to give him a searching look. Hardy kept his face as neutral as possible. Even though he was telling the truth, he hated how well-practised he was at lying to his own daughter. Whatever she was doubting him over, he seemed to pass her inspection and she went back to her chips.

Although keeping the secret of how her parents' marriage had disintegrated from her had been his idea, Hardy sometimes wished Daisy knew the truth. Not because he wanted her to know what Tess had done or to score points, but just so he could have a clean slate with her. He knew there was a possibility that one day the whole story could come to light and he hated the thought of being on the side of shadows when it did.

Even so, it wasn't his story to tell.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, Hardy almost missed Daisy's next question.

"Are you seeing Ellie?"

"Not anytime soon," he replied, helping himself to his drink. "Why? Fancy another trip to the beach?"

Daisy sighed as though he'd chucked his drink over himself and she'd need to sort him out a change of clothes. It was strange seeing the situations reversed ten years down the line.

"No, I meant _seeing._ "

It had been the main thing occupying his thoughts for the past couple of days, but when confronted with the idea Hardy didn't know what to say. A couple of kisses was hardly a relationship, but then it was something more than just being friends. No promises had been made, though Hardy knew he wasn't looking at anyone else.

Miller's reaction to him the previous morning came back to him. It was obvious - even if nothing else was - that she wasn't ready for any kind of commitment. Even if it was just acknowledging that something had changed between them.

"No," he told Daisy. He couldn't tell if he felt so sick because he was lying or because he wasn't this time.

"You'd tell me if you were though?"

"Yes."

He held her gaze until she looked away. It was a rarity to see Daisy look vulnerable these days. She was nearly sixteen, on the brink of leaving school, but he still saw her as a child most of the time. Really, she was at that difficult halfway point, when she felt like she could look after herself, those around her treated her as if she couldn't and none of them were right.

Hardy knew she still hadn't quite forgiven him for leaving or explaining just how serious his heart troubles had been. For the first time he wondered if perhaps she could've handled it better than he expected her to. All he knew was that he wasn't going to keep things as huge as that from her again.

"Mum's got a boyfriend," she blurted out. She added a shrug to make it look more casual than it was. "Has done for ages."

"Oh aye?" Hardy's hand tensed around his paper cup. While that had been the last thing he'd expected to learn that evening, he had an odd sense of deja vu and suddenly knew what was coming next.

"Yeah, for about a year or something. They split up for a bit a couple of months ago but he's back around again now. Dave," Daisy continued. "She told me not to tell you."

He'd honestly thought the news of Tess being with someone else would hurt as much as it had the night the pendant was stolen. He'd loved her for such a long time that even as she broke his heart he expected to never really stop. Before his surgery, he'd been so scared he'd never see another day and it had been her he'd reached out to. Afterwards, when he steadily accepted that he wasn't about to die, he realised he hadn't wanted her back at all. He'd just wanted the security of the time when he'd been happy and it felt like people would miss him.

Instead, learning she was officially with Dave, made him feel left behind. If anything, he was more concerned about hearing it from Daisy, after keeping that knowledge from her had cost him so much.

"You shouldn't have told me, then," he said eventually, unsure of what to say about the rest of her announcement. His head was spinning but he couldn't work out why.

Daisy shrugged. "He's a bit of a wanker."

Hardy knew he shouldn't have, but he laughed, anyway. She joined in and Hardy couldn't bring himself to care about her language. After everything he'd said about and to Dave, he couldn't take the moral high ground.

"You should give him a fair chance, darlin'." The words tasted like sand in his mouth. After all, the man had spent weeks in his company, knowing the whole time he was shagging his wife. The last thing Hardy wanted was him anywhere near his daughter, but saying so would only make Daisy ask questions and she wasn't stupid.

Daisy pulled a face. "You don't seem bothered."

"As long as he doesn't hurt you I can't say anything. Your mother can see who she wants. It's nothing to do with me anymore," Hardy sighed. _Not that it ever stopped her when it was,_ he added mentally.

"Does boring me to tears count as hurting me?"

"Sorry."

"Making me watch shitty spy films?"

"Nope."

"Playing Coldplay in the car?"

"Give me his address and I'll have him arrested."

Daisy laughed. He'd spent a lot of time worrying they'd struggle to find shared interests and all along she'd been harbouring a deep seated loathing of Dave. It was funny how the world worked sometimes.

Although, now Hardy thought about it, Dave wasn't exactly difficult to get along with. Of course, he'd always irritated him a bit, but then everyone did on some level. He was the sort of man that told bad jokes and smiled in the mornings. Maybe it wasn't the person she hated? Maybe it was the position he'd taken in her life?

Cursing himself for thinking too far ahead, Hardy went over every interaction he'd seen between Miller and Daisy.

"Would you mind if - you know," Hardy inhaled deeply, wishing he'd thought his question through, "if I _was_ seeing someone?"

Daisy narrowed her eyes. "You said you weren't."

"I'm not, but I might find someone with poor enough judgement yet."

The searching look was back. After being raised by two coppers, Hardy shouldn't have been so surprised that Daisy had ended up a highly suspicious emotional x-ray machine. It didn't help that the two people she was supposed trust more than anyone else had been lying to her for nearly three years.

"Depends," she replied. "As long as they're not a bitch or, like, young enough to be my big sister."

"So not your English teacher?"

Daisy shivered. "Don't even joke."

"Well, I'm going to meet her Monday. Could be love at first sight."

"You're sick."

It was with a promise to behave and smile that they left the restaurant. The sun had set while they'd been in there and the drive home was made surrounded by glaring streetlights and groups of teenagers walking aimlessly. Unlike the journey there, Daisy chatted about things her friends had said at school and a TV she liked. He made a point of remembering the title so he could look into it when he got back home.

He didn't respond to much of what she was saying. Driving with her voice as the only soundtrack took him back ten years and it was nice to keep the illusion going for as long as he could. Once they were outside of her house, she subtly checked no one was around before hugging him goodbye and swearing she'd run away if he tried flirting with her English teacher. Then, without a glance back, she walked up the drive to the her mother and the life they once shared.

Hardy stared after her for a moment after the front door had closed. Was Dave in there? It was a peculiar feeling, thinking about the man who helped ruin his life, lounging around in the house he'd bought. It used to make him burn with jealousy and rage. Now though…

He was under no illusion that he'd done nothing wrong in his marriage. After all, it wasn't happy spouses that cheated, but he certainly didn't screw it up as much as Tess. Yet somehow, he was the one coasting through his life while she was moving forward. She picked up the pieces and made something with them. He'd been left with fewer fragments of their life, but he'd barely touched them.

He'd solved the case - with help. His penance was done. Daisy was slowly becoming a permanent fixture in his life again. His heart was no longer a ticking bomb.

It was time for him to stop waiting around to die and live again.

Words had been failing him for days now, but, as he pulled his phone out, they fell into place. It was so easy now he wasn't over-thinking it.

 _How's Tom doing?_

He sent the message to Miller with a sniff. It wasn't a sonnet, but he'd had more practise with olive branches anyway.

The chime indicating she'd replied happened when he was halfway home and he was forced to wait until he'd parked up to read it.

 _Already wanting to start football practise again! Shouldn't be too long before he's back at school. The other boys have been suspended._

The message came with a couple of blank squares that Daisy had explained a couple of weeks ago meant she'd included little cartoons in her message. Hardy was torn between wondering what the bloody point in them and how much of a Miller thing to do it was. He unclicked his seatbelt and pressed reply.

 _Tell him to stick to FIFA. Serves the little bastards right._

 _Pretty much what I told the school!_

Hardy smiled to himself as he unlocked his front door. The image in his mind of Miller unleashing hell on an unsuspecting teacher was almost too perfect. He dreaded to think what she'd said to the boy's parents. He'd dropped his keys and phone on his kitchen table when the latter buzzed again.

 _How's everything with you? Spoken to Daisy yet?_

Halfway through typing 'Fine', Hardy paused. Echoes of Tess' accusations the night everything came crashing down around him bled into the present. All of that horseshit about being _emotionally unavailable_ and whatever other bollocks she'd heard on TV that week. At the time, it'd been lost in the shock and pain or caused the kind of guilt that made him choose to leave. Now, with a clear head and some perspective, it sounded a lot like a warning.

 _She's promised not to call anyone a bitch for 24 hrs. Reckon she's just lashing out because her mum's back with her old boyfriend Dave again._

 _Dave? As in DAVE Dave?_

 _No another one. Tess has a thing for them._

 _No need to be a twat. Let me put Fred to bed and I'll ring you._

Hardy settled down on his second-hand sofa and stared at the blank TV screen, his phone sitting on the arm. It had been so long since he'd had someone to come home to, to talk to about his day, that it felt unnatural to do so. At the same time, however, there was an immense relief in knowing that he'd be able to talk through his thoughts with Miller. The cliffs in Broadchurch had been a great place to think but they never gave him the feedback he needed or the sympathy he unwillingly craved.

Miller, on the other hand…

His phone rang and Hardy felt something in his chest swell. He wasn't his past and, now that he could, he needed to start his future.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hello! So here is the final chapter and t is a bit of a beast. Sorry about that!_

 _Btw there a couple of mentions of pigs in here and I SWEAR that they were all written before... a certain news story swept the nation. Honestly. Editing this was a slightly shocking yet hilarious experience._

 _Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and thanks for coming along for the ride!_

* * *

It was two weeks later that found Hardy watching a barge drift down a river and resisting the urge to check his watch again. He'd somehow managed to avoid traffic and arrived ten minutes earlier than he'd been planning to. Any other day he'd have been grateful, but today he was waiting for Miller, who'd had no such luck and was going to be a ten minutes late. With little else he could do, Hardy was left to wait around in front of the multi-story car park they'd arranged to meet at.

The view of the river, flanked by blossoming flowers and the sun reflecting off the water would have been calming for someone else. Hardy, however, was more on edge than he would have otherwise been. He turned his back on it to read the car park security notices in order to ignore it just as two teams of rowers went by, the shouts of their coxes' impossible to shut out. He slouched against the broken ticket machine he was stood by.

Though he hadn't seen Miller since the morning after Tom had gone to hospital, they'd been in contact in some way nearly every day since. After he'd got home after the disastrous meeting at Daisy's school, he'd phoned her to vent his frustrations to her. She'd text him when SOCO Brian had announced his engagement to a stunned Broadchurch station. Last week, he'd emailed her a couple of witness statements to double check that he wasn't the only one seeing the tiny hole in one of them. When Tom finally told her what the boys had said to him about his dad, Miller had phoned him while walking along the cliff tops. They spent nearly two hours talking that time, with subjects ranging from Joe and Danny to the bargain she'd found at Asda the day before when Hardy thought her voice sounded a bit thick.

For the most part Hardy had always seen texting as a simple method of communication, but never really held full conversations through it, having always preferred phone calls. Or just ignoring people altogether. Now, though, any time he encountered something that pissed him off or amused him, he found himself reaching for his phone to let Miller know.

Somehow the office printer breaking one Monday morning had led to them being in contact all day. The whole incident should have been infuriating - and it still was - but it was made so much more bearable with Miller's running commentary and ridiculous solutions. Even though the messages were toneless and made of tiny black pixels, the light she took everywhere with her still shone through.

( _Have you tried turning it off and on again?_

 _It won't turn on_

 _There's your problem :)_

 _Helpful_

 _I've looked it up on the internet. There should be something called a 'plug' that you need to attach to the wall._

 _Yeah we've checked that thanks_

 _We? just how many fully trained officers of the law is it taking to fix a printer?_ )

Even now, frustrated with waiting, his fingers were twitching to let Miller know, even though she was the one he was waiting for and she was too busy driving to reply.

This whole trip was the result of one of their phone conversations. Since they'd kissed, Hardy had been desperate to find a way for them to see each other again, but couldn't think of an excuse to organically bring them together. A trip down with Daisy would have been ideal, but she was currently in the dog house and, as much as he loved spending time with his daughter, he didn't want the added distraction.

From their conversations, Hardy knew that Miller still wanted him in her life. The problem was if she just needed a friend, he didn't want to ruin that. Things were more settled for her compared to how they were before the trial but there were still people in Broadchurch who doubted her. There were even a couple of her colleagues at the station who weren't happy about her return. The last thing she needed now was him blundering in.

Unless she wanted him to.

He had no idea either way. Despite talking so frequently neither of the had brought up what had happened in her darkened kitchen that night.

"Sixteen. When did that happen?" he'd said to Miller on the phone as he collapsed onto his sofa after the Day of the Printer.

"It hasn't happened yet."

"No, but I've still only got a month to get used to the idea of having a sixteen year old."

"If you're like this now, I dread to think about your reaction to her eighteenth."

"What are you supposed to do with sixteen year olds anyway? It's not like when she was wee and she'd do whatever. I think if I suggested we went - I don't know - _bowling_ for her birthday she'd tell me to piss off."

"You went bowling?"

"Is this your idea of support?"

"Sorry. Just trying to picture you in the shoes."

Hardy sighed. For Daisy's last couple of birthdays he'd sent a card with a gift voucher and received brief phone calls in return. This year he felt he had to make up for it but had no idea how.

"I've got Friday off work. Should probably go shopping then. I was thinking of going down to Bristol or something like that? At least Daisy won't have already bought whatever I end up getting her."

"You know all shops have pretty much the same stock, right?" Miller told him as he thought he heard her put a mug down. "All across the country?"

"Come with me," he said without thinking too much about it. "You get Fridays off anyway."

"Yes, I'd love to just abandon my children to deal with your midlife crisis. Thanks for asking."

Something about her tone made him wonder if his request had come across ruder than he intended.

"Tom'll be at school and you said Fred would be going to that nursery trial day Friday. What else have you got on? Come on, Miller." He waited for her to respond for a couple of beats before realising what he'd forgotten. "Please."

There was a heavy exhale on the other of the line, followed by a "fine."

Hardy couldn't really believe that it had been so simple in the end. A shopping trip could be completely platonic. Then again, they would probably get lunch at some point and that could be made slightly less platonic.

Or a lot less platonic if he managed to bring up the kiss.

Or a complete shitstorm if he managed to bring up the kiss and she shut him down.

How would he even mention it subtly anyway?

 _"_ _This beef is the best thing to happen in a kitchen since our kiss. By the way, have you had chance to think about that at all?"_

"Sorry about the delay. Think there was an accident before junction eighteen."

Hardy spun around and was greeted with the face that'd occupied his waking and occasionally sleeping moments for at least a month now. "Miller."

"Hey."

She stopped a couple of steps from him and smiled. He felt himself doing the same thing. Even though they'd been arranging and double checking the plan for the day for most of the week, he still hadn't wrapped his mind around actually seeing her again. He wondered briefly if he should try and hug her or something. She was making no move to do anything similar so Hardy opted to play it safe. It wouldn't do to ruin the day before they'd even started.

The seconds ticked by without either of them saying anything else and Miller shuffled on the spot.

"The river looks pretty," she remarked, squinting over his shoulder at it. "I haven't been here for ages. Years, probably."

He nodded vaguely, not interested in the river in the slightest. His attention was completely focussed on what Miller was wearing. He'd known her long enough to recognise the functional outfits she usually wore to work or the baggy jumpers for when she was planning on staying in all day. Today she'd opted for leggings and longer top made of some floaty material. Her hair wasn't pinned down within an inch of its life or just left to the elements but nicely styled. It was casual but not her usual haphazard I've-got-a-toddler-and-no-time-to-care look. She was wearing slightly more make-up than usual and a necklace as well.

It would've be unwise for him to read too much into any of it, but whatever it meant, Hardy thought she looked radiant.

"Shall we get going, then?" she said nodding her head towards the path that led further into the city centre. "Why did you want to meet all the way out here, anyway?"

"The road layouts here are abysmal. You probably save an hour parking outside of it all."

"And here was me thinking you enjoyed the scenery."

They walked for half an hour, following the river, their conversation just as winding and gentle. Underneath it though, Hardy could feel a riptide, churning below surface and begging him to go with it to the depths. Miller was carrying on as though she had no knowledge of it and he didn't know if he envied or hated her for it.

They finally reached a shopping centre, filled with chrome, glass and light and as soulless as its counterparts around the country. The same shops in different arrangements and a food court where all of the world's cuisine were thrown together and left to die. It was all so sterile it reminded him of hospitals and brought him about as much joy.

"Ooh, this is a bit fancy, isn't it?" enthused Miller from his side. "They've got one of those sweetcorn stands, look. Have you ever tried it?"

Without giving her question the dignity of anything more than frown, Hardy started up the long line of shops, eyes flicking across the familiar logos in the hope of inspiration.

"Any idea what to get her?" Miller asked when they reached the epicentre of the capitalist disaster zone. Hardy stopped by the fountain and looked around.

"Nah," he sighed, turning his back on a teenager trying to hand him a leaflet.

Miller pointedly took the leaflet offered to her with a smile before addressing him again. "How about a charm?"

"A what?"

She nodded to a jewellery shop on the upper level. All Hardy could see of it was the bright sign over the entrance. It grated against his eyeballs just as much as any of the others in the building and he wondered why she'd singled this one out.

"She's got one of those Pandora bracelets, hasn't she?"

"I don't know what that is."

"It's a bracelet-"

"Really?"

"Fine," Miller huffed. "You find your own bloody present and I'll stand there acting like an arsehole."

Hardy chewed the inside of his mouth and looked away from her. Everything about being here had him on edge. He hated the chattering idiots around him, smiling as though being somewhere designed to rob them of as much money as possible was fun in some way. He hated the useless crap the majority of the shops peddled. He hated the smell of floor cleaner, stagnant water and recycled air. He hated that he couldn't just ask Miller why she'd agreed to come or any of the other questions burning his tongue. He hated that his defence strategy for being put in these situations was to become a irritable and jittery bastard.

He hated that this was his daughter and he didn't know her well enough to think of what she might want for her birthday.

He hated that Dave might have already bought her something she actually wanted.

"Sorry," he mumbled, trying not to be offended by Miller's perplexed expression. "What's this bracelet?"

"You buy the bracelet and then you can add charms to personalise it. She was wearing one when you came down to visit last time."

"You sure?" he asked sceptically. He knew Miller had an eye for details, but honestly couldn't see how she could distinguish one brand of bracelet from another.

She nodded. "I asked her about the charms she had on it."

"Can you remember them?"

"I think so."

He mulled over the idea. "That's actually brilliant."

Miller's face split into a proud grin that she tried to reign in. Part of him wanted to tell her not bother, that she always looked so pretty when she smiled. Another part of him found how humble she was incredibly endearing and never wanted her to change.

He stared at her for what felt like a second too long to be normal before heading towards to escalator. She followed him up halfway before they came to a stop behind a small group of students.

"Just because they move, doesn't mean they aren't still stairs," he muttered under his breath. "You can still walk up them."

Miller elbowed him in the side but her mouth twitched.

Finally, they reached the next level but had to walk around the perimeter to get to the other side, thanks to the architect's need to have the place physically resemble the cavernous vacuum it already was culturally. They entered to the shop and Hardy nodded at the over-dressed orange woman that greeted him before approaching the nearest cabinet.

"So which ones does she already have?" he asked Miller quietly, highly aware that the salesman a couple of feet away was probably listening. It made him uncomfortable that he was going to use anything overhead when he inevitably approached them to try and manipulate them into buying something. He used a similar technique when he was interrogating suspects and it didn't seem the sort of skill that was also necessary for selling shiny bits of metal.

"She had one with daisies on it and one with an Eiffel Tower. Said she got it in Paris."

"She went with Tess last year," he said, his attention still on the tiny charms laid out in front of him. He felt a tug on his sleeve.

"It's a silver bracelet," Miller said, pulling him towards the next cabinet. "Those charms are all gold."

He nodded his thanks to her, failing to stop himself noticing how close they were now standing to one another as they looked at the charms. The noise from outside was strangely absent in the bubble of the shop and it created an atmosphere that felt more intimate than the situation surely required.

"Anything I can help you-"

"Just looking," Hardy said, interrupting the salesman without looking up at him.

"Thanks," Miller added.

There were so many that Hardy didn't know where to begin. Judging by how few charms Daisy had compared to some of the pictures used in the display and what they were, she was picking out charms that meant something to her.

Then again, it could have been because they were astonishingly expensive.

There were plenty with simple jewels or intricately patterned hearts that she'd probably like, but he couldn't see how they would be significant to her. The frustration he was already wrestling with increased tenfold and he tried to push it down, knowing it wouldn't help.

How was he meant to find a tiny bead that represented everything she was to him? Daisy was such a complex and intelligent person and he'd had the pleasure of watching her become that. Yes, he'd missed a couple of years, but was back now and he needed to show her that he was her father. Anyone could buy her fancy jewellery if they had the money but he had held her before she'd even opened her eyes and planned to do the same until his last breath.

"Any ideas?" Miller whispered and he shrugged.

He passed over the rows of hearts, angel wings and gems only to discover a section made of musical instruments and stars. What had been a wonderful idea was suddenly falling apart at the seams.

Feeling the pressure, he approached the last cabinet with bated breath and found a row of chubby animal faces smiling out at him.

"Those are cute," remarked Miller, scrunching her nose up.

"Aye," he agreed, as his eyes found a charm so perfect he wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it. "That one," he pointed out.

"The pig?"

"Next to it."

"Is that a panda? Why a panda?"

"Have you made a decision, sir?" the salesman asked before he had chance to reply. Hardy nodded and soon the purchase was made. He was so pleased with his find, he didn't begrudge paying a bit extra for gift wrapping or get too annoyed with the man's commission fueled parting smile.

They had left the shop and were walking aimlessly along the balcony when Hardy spoke again.

"When Daisy was four or five, she got chicken pox. Half the school had it, I think," he recalled and Miller's attention snapped from the window displays to him. "Anyway, only one of us could have the day off and I had a meeting or something so Tess stayed.

"Daisy was already grouchy from being ill, but she wanted me to stay as well and cried all morning. By the afternoon, I phoned home and she refused to speak to me she was still so upset."

"Bit of a daddy's girl?" smiled Miller.

"Could say that. I felt bad - it was the first time she'd been off sick - so on the way home I went and bought her this giant stuffed panda to try and cheer her up. The thing was bigger than she was."

"Why a panda?"

"I don't bloody remember. Probably the closest one to the door of Toys R Us. But she loved it and still had it in her room last time I was in there. Named it Panda Pop. Carried it around everywhere. Insisted it sleep in her bed, leaving her curled up in the corner."

Miller giggled. "Reminds of the time that Joe-"

She sobered immediately and turned away, her movements jerky as she gripped the strap on her bag. The fuzzy mix of successfully finding a present and reminiscing they'd been enjoying turned cold. Hardy reached his hand out to rest it on her shoulder but dropped it, grateful she missed the entire movement.

"Sorry," she said, flashing him a smile that immediately fell away, leaving behind the sort of pain that had been a permanent fixture in her eyes during Joe's trial. He hadn't seen it in a while and something about its reappearance made him ignore his misgivings and grab her hand.

She came to a sharp stop and glanced down at their conjoined hands before turning her wide eyes onto him.

"It's okay," he told her. He wasn't sure what else to say so tried to show how he felt non-verbally. That he understood that a huge portion of her memories were now marred by Joe's presence in them. That he knew she was going to have these slip-ups on occasion. That if she ever needed or wanted to talk about anything to do with her ex then he was willing to listen.

Biting her lip, she met his eyes unflinchingly and did her best to nod. He squeezed her hand but didn't let go of it. Facing one another, hands entwined, was the position they'd been in when he first kissed her two weeks ago. Even with the sun streaming through the glass ceiling and the background hustle and bustle, he couldn't help but think of that silent kitchen and how she'd looked in the moonlight.

Somehow, he knew she was thinking about it too.

She stepped away from him and he shoved his fist into his pocket, hoping it would retain some of her warmth.

"All done? Or do you want to get her a card?" she asked too brightly.

Hardy cleared his throat. "I'll get the card nearer the time. There was this show she was talking about the other day. Could get her the DVD?"

As they tried to locate the nearest HMV, Miller advised Hardy to check with Tess if Daisy already had what they were looking for. There'd been no reply by the time they found one and they split up, Hardy to find the present and Miller to see if she could get something Tom had been asking about and something for Fred so he didn't feel left out. The moment Hardy reached the right aisle, Tess replied to his text telling him she'd already bought the boxset as part of her own gift.

"Shit."

He went off in search of Miller, for once lamenting her lack of beacon-like coat. Eventually he found her by the till with a football game and Peppa Pig DVD in hand.

"Any luck?"

"Three guesses what Tess has got her?"

She winced sympathetically. "A pony?"

Miller paid for her items and they left the shop. Hardy knew he was scowling, but didn't care. For a moment it felt as though all of the work he'd put in to reconnect with Daisy had paid off, only for Tess to remind him that he'd only scratched the surface. Deep down he knew Tess had done nothing spiteful but it was still a reminder that she saw her every day.

Everything he had done when Sandbrook first blew up, he had done to protect them both. At the time he had never really thought about just how much he would have to sacrifice for it.

"In here," Miller said, pulling him out of his thoughts and into a Waterstones. "All of these shows nowadays have their own novels and graphic novels and making of behind the scenes guides."

"Yeah, to bleed even more money out of you," Hardy scoffed.

"Obviously. But it also gives you twice as many gift options," she smiled knowingly.

"Miller, you are amazing."

Ten minutes later, they left the book shop with a couple of companion novels that had only been released the week before. Hardy sent Tess a quick text to warn her off buying them herself and they headed out of the shopping centre at long last.

Breathing in the fresh air, even if it was filled with pollution, made Hardy's muscles relax. For the first time in two years he'd got something he knew Daisy would like and would even get to see her open it. Once again, he was glad he'd taken the risk and gone under the knife just so he could experience moments like these.

The realisation of what was at his fingertips gave him a headrush.

"Want some lunch?" he said on an exhale. "My treat."

Miller's eyebrows shot up her forehead as she tucked a strand of curls behind her ear. "You're paying?"

"Aye. A thank you for all your help." He tried not to show how anxious he was but his nerve was slipping the longer his invitation went unanswered. It took another blow when she laughed at him.

"A thank- Are you feeling okay?"

"Don't be like that."

"Like what? You once had me drive all the way to Portsmouth without a thank you!"

"Once is hardly-"

"And all of those trips to Sandbrook. And all over Broadchurch. Not to mention-"

"For fu- Just shut up and have lunch with me."

A couple of people stopped and stared at his outburst, but Hardy only had eyes for Miller who was eyeing him with something that could have been wonder but possibly shock. Either way, it wasn't fury for which he was grateful.

"Okay, then," she replied when he thought he was going to need a new pacemaker to cope with the strain. "Lunch with you, it is."

"Great," he replied with exasperation, but inside was a completely different story. There was something about the way she agreed that told him that she had cottoned onto his intentions. "There's a load of places by the waterfront down here."

"How do you know Bristol so well?" she asked as they started in the direction he'd pointed out.

"Came here for that job interview a couple of weeks ago," he said, referring to the one he'd cancelled at the last minute to join Tom in hospital. He deliberated for a moment before adding, "Plus there was the interview I actually showed up for Wednesday."

"What? You never told me!"

"Didn't want to jinx it."

"Did you get it?"

"Said they'd get back to me by Monday. Seeing as they gave me another go, I reckon they're desperate enough to give the worst cop in Britain a job."

It was impossible to not return the smile Miller was giving him. She nudged him with her shoulder. "Don't know who'd be happier if you get it: you or the poor bastards you have to teach."

They walked the short journey to the waterfront, lined with restaurants on either side and more boats than Hardy could count. Between that and the more traditional design of the area, it reminded him of Broadchurch as much a major city could. If the restaurants hadn't all been part of larger chains then he could've easily pretended to be looking out from the back step of his old home by the sea.

Beside him, Miller checked her phone before placing it back in her bag. "What do you fancy?"

Hardy shrugged and pointed to the place they were stood outside of. "There?"

"What do they do, then?"

"No idea."

She rolled her eyes at him and approached the menu. "It all looks a bit spicy." She glanced around her, her eyes lighting up when she saw something further down. "Ooh, Beth said she went there a couple of months ago. It's Italian or something."

With it being a weekday afternoon, the restaurant was quiet and they were seated almost immediately. The floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the water made the place appear bigger than it probably was. Unlike a few restaurants he'd been to over the years, Hardy found he preferred them when they were more open rather than stuffy and so dark you could barely read the menu.

Hardy dug his glasses out of his jacket pocket and searched his menu for the salad section. Months had passed and he still hadn't snapped out of the habit. With the rest of the menu now fully available to him, he felt a bit lost with so much choice.

"I might just get the caesar salad," he said, going for the only salad he could comfortably pronounce the name of. He doubted the food itself was as authentic as the menu boasted so there was no reason why they couldn't put the names in English. It'd embarrass English speakers less and probably reduce the offence to actual Italian food.

"Salad?" grimaced Miller.

"I thought you liked caesar salad?"

"Since when?"

Hardy folded his menu. "Since I made you one and you said "I liked that.""

"Oh." Miller bit her lip. "I might have told a porkie. I hate salad. Why get salad when you can have proper food?"

"Proper- I spent ages making that!" spluttered Hardy. "Why didn't you tell me? Why eat it if you hated it so much?"

"I was being polite! You don't get given free food by someone and then throw it back in their face! Oh wait - you do."

Rather than replying, Hardy turned back to his menu and tried to pick a pasta dish instead. A waitress approached them and Miller dealt with it. The way she kept the conversation away from him almost seemed like an act of contrition for her outburst.

"And a caesar salad with-"

"Actually can I have the rigatoni instead," Hardy interrupted, putting his glasses away

The waitress looked surprised to hear him talk but recovered quickly enough. "Would you like to add chicken to your-"

"No."

They settled into a comfortable silence and, even though they were in public and surrounded by conversation, it didn't feel strange. While he was always content to keep to himself, he knew Miller had a habit of wittering on whenever no one else was talking. Now, however, she was sat across from him, watching the world pass her by out of the window.

Their food arrived and they both complimented what they each had. Hardy was only on his third mouthful when something began ringing from under the table. Miller scrambled for her bag and emerged with her phone.

"Sorry," she said, holding it to her ear. "Hi!"

Hardy picked at his meal for a couple of minutes while Miller talked to Lucy by the sounds of things. It appeared the two sisters were getting on at the minute, judging by the lack of scowling on Miller's part. After a quick word with Fred - or at least Hardy hoped she'd been talking to Fred - her phone was dropped on the table with another apology.

"Lucy's just picked him up from the nursery," she explained. "Apparently he was a superstar and they'll have no problem with him in September!"

"Did you seriously doubt that?" Hardy asked. "The boy could win over… well… me."

"True," Miller smiled and her phone beeped again. "Lucy's sent me a picture. Look."

She showed him the picture of her youngest, grinning at the camera so enthusiastically it looked painful.

"Looks like he enjoyed himself."

"They've got a slide there."

"That's cheating."

The rest of the meal was filled with more talk of Fred's antics and latest words. Even though he was nothing to do with him, Hardy enjoyed listening to Miller's updates. Not just because she was never happier or prouder than when she was with her boys, but because he'd now known Fred for half of his life. Admittedly he'd hardly been on his radar when he first moved to Broadchurch, but that had all changed when it felt like every other day he was babbling on his sofa, colouring book in hand.

When the bill arrived, Miller went to grab her bag before he stopped her. After he'd insisted that he was serious about paying, she stared at him as though he'd announced he was buying her a house. It was as he paid, Hardy noticed she was avoiding his eye and fiddling with her bag still. The temptation to make some comment about how much this resembled a date was over-whelming, but he couldn't think of a way to do it and still sound casual. Even in his head he sounded as though he was hinting.

Although, the way Miller acted once the waitress had left them, was enough to make him wonder if she was having a similar debate with herself. She checked her phone rather than look at him directly and, when he suggested they leave, she stood so quickly she almost upended the table.

The walk back to their cars wasn't much better. The winding route along the river they had decided to take had all the makings of a romantic stroll and Hardy spent the first ten minutes straining to think of a way to mention what had happened between them two weeks previously. The same sensation of time falling away and his window of opportunity closing in on him was back. This time it was with the added pressure of possibly just having been on a date - something else they should probably talk about.

To a stranger, Miller appeared to be her usual bubbly self, pointing out interesting landmarks and reading the tourist information signs. Hardy knew all of it was to prevent her feeling uncomfortable and it only made him want to stop her. How was he supposed to work out what she was thinking if she wasn't giving him chance to think himself?

Thankfully, the river Avon could only provide so much filler conversation and soon Miller was forced to walk in silence. It reminded Hardy of working the Sandbrook case together, and how sometimes they'd walk along the coast without talking, just enjoying the other's company while lost in their own heads.

"It's a bit odd. Doing this without a beach," Hardy said, his voice sounding too loud after not speaking for so long. They were nearly back at the multi-story car park and he hoped he'd be able to improvise well enough to at least imply he'd want to do something similar to this again.

"Yeah," chuckled Miller. "It's sort of nice not working at the same time."

"Only sort of?" Hardy chanced a look at her out of the corner of his eye. She blinked a couple of times before looking out across the river.

"Fine. This is nice."

"Really?"

This time he met her eyes as he waited for her response. She seemed to debate her answer for a moment before giving him a kind smile.

"Really."

It was hard to look away from her after she'd spoken. While he didn't exactly have a great history of understanding subtle hints from women, there was something warm about her gaze that made him feel like he could do anything. With this woman at his side he had faced his greatest demons and sent them all packing. He doubted she realised just how inspiring she was and it only made him want to show her how special she was to the best of his questionable ability.

The calm that settled over them lasted until they reached their destination. Unlike before, Hardy didn't feel the crushing need to ask about her motivations or desires. Reflecting on the day had installed a new sense of patience about him. He was strangely confident in his mind that Miller felt _something_ towards him, though he couldn't guess what it was exactly. He didn't have to rush everything anymore. There was time for things to grow and he just had to nurture whatever was happening to make sure it did.

After paying their parking fees, they made their way to Miller's car and paused on the driver's side. She turned to face him and he shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to look as though he was completely at ease.

"Right, well, thanks for today," she said brightly.

"What're you thanking me for?" he scoffed. "I'm the one that needed help."

"Still. It's good to get out of the house sometimes."

"We could - if you get chance - could do this again?" As soon as he'd started speaking, Hardy wished he hadn't. It was as though he was outside of his body, watching an idiot pilot himself into a social disaster.

"Daisy got another birthday coming up?"

"Not for a while," he answered, trying to stop himself from being irritated with her glib remark.

She shuffled on the spot, as though she couldn't decide between stepping away from her car or towards it. "Yeah. I guess."

"Great."

Hardy nodded more than necessary even though he was screaming at himself to appear less eager. Miller was giving him a tight smile and he wished she'd give him something more to go on. Even though they were surrounded by the smell of concrete and car fumes, it was as though they were on the precipice of something new once again. It didn't seem to matter where they were. Since he'd moved away, every time they parted, whether in person or on the phone, it made him feel like a teenager, desperately trying to make a full conversation with one of the popular girls when she asked him to borrow a pen.

"So I'll see you… later," Miller said, edging backwards and Hardy nodded. "Let me know if Daisy likes her present."

"Yeah, well, it's not until next month so…"

"Of course, yeah."

"I'll see you, then."

"Yeah, bye."

Hardy watched her get into her car with one last smile at him and raised his hand in goodbye. "Drive safely."

 _Drive safely?_ Jesus, he was an embarrassment.

He stepped back to allow her to reverse out of her spot and masochistically watched her drive away. The same hollow feeling from when he left Broadchurch settled in his stomach.

 _Next time_ , he told himself. _Next time he'd say something._

He slowly headed for the stairs to the next level and his own car. The door to the stairwell was in sight when he heard a car coming up behind him. He moved sideways to the edge of the balcony, searching his pockets for his ticket as he did. Once he found it, he looked up just in time to see the car screech to a halt in the parking space a couple ahead of him. He frowned, ready to give the driver hell for nearly running over a policeman, when he recognised the car.

"Miller?" he breathed as she stepped out of her car, slamming the door behind her.

She glared at him and he wondered what he could possibly have done in the last thirty seconds to have incurred her wrath.

Her shoulders slumped and she sighed. "What are we doing, Hardy?"

A hundred questions flew through his mind, along with a hundred answers, but the situation called for the truth.

"I… I don't know."

"Right."

Whatever had made her turn her car around seemed to leave her as she worked her jaw and stared at her feet. Hardy could feel his heart more keenly than ever before, pounding against his ribcage, every molecule of his being on high alert, waiting for the words to come to him. This was the moment he'd been waiting and trying for and now it was here he felt like he was drowning in his own ineptitude.

The pause dragged on and he could see regret creeping its way onto Miller's features. That alone made him decide to do what he'd always been scared to do, even more so after his marriage collapsed, and throw his heart and everything he was in the line of fire.

"Miller, I - I am shite at this. Utter shite. Jesus, I just… I never thought I would ever feel - ever get this again. Let alone have the chance to do anything about it." His chest was heaving, eyes imploring and all he could do was stand there and let her choose to either pull him to safety or let him be taken with the tide.

"You think you've got a chance?"

She said it with a stab at a joke, though she was entirely too twitchy to pull it off. After the emotional rollercoaster of the last couple of weeks, after spending time with her family as if he belonged there, after kissing her like he'd wanting to for so long now, after days of uncertainty and the last few hours filled with the simple thrill of being with her, he didn't have the energy for pretense any longer.

"Have I?" he asked breathlessly. His direct question threw her, but he didn't regret it. After all, she'd nearly knocked him down before asking her own.

"I don't know!" she cried. "Do you have any idea what it's like to put up with you?"

"I do spend a lot of time with me."

Miller looked like she might throw him over the balcony.

"See! That! You're a wanker. And a knob. Fred has better manners half the time. But then…" She broke off and the tense lines of her face melted away. He'd never seen her look at him like that with one glaring exception: after he'd kissed her. It was a look of scar tissue and sleepless nights, longing and loneliness and he suspected he appeared the same to her.

Hardy did his best to look as sincere as he could, appealing to whatever side of her made her look at him like she was now. He had no idea what he'd done to win any fraction of her affection, but he found himself praying he was reminding her of it now.

"Why do you have to be such a tosser?" she exploded and Hardy winced. Apparently she wasn't done fighting with herself. "You could smile once in a while, but no. You'd rather get pissed off with kittens and lampposts and - I mean, who gets _that_ angry at a self service checkout?"

"They're a waste of bloody time! It takes up more staff looking after the-"

"I don't care about the bloody self service machines!"

"You brought them up!"

They were both breathing heavily, the tension almost too much. Hardy couldn't believe he'd snapped and potentially ruined everything. It would be so easy to apologise and get the conversation back on track, but he just couldn't. She was Miller and he was Hardy. Backing down was never an option, regardless of the situation.

Miller's eyelids slipped closed and it felt like an axe falling. With forced calm, she opened them again and spoke steadily. "I am going to get in my car and run you over if you don't kiss me."

He heard the words, saw her lips form them, but the meaning was lost somewhere in the ether. All the pent up frustration in his limbs made them stiff and it was possibly an entire week before his mind and body finally caught up.

Without a thought to anyone who might be around them or his personal safety, Hardy flung himself at Miller. His momentum carried them until she was backed against her car, his hands on her hips, hers in his hair, when - finally - his mouth met hers in a bruising kiss.

It had none of the gentleness of their last kiss. It was all teeth and tongues and hands searching for new territory. It had been years since Hardy had had this kind of contact and he relished it, wondering how he had gone so long without the warmth of another body against his. Miller appeared to be of the same mind, raking her fingers over his scalp in a way he suspected would keep him up at night for days to come.

He'd been falling fast for her for a long time, but now she was pulling him down he doubted he could ever resurface.

It went against everything he wanted, but eventually he pulled away. His arms disagreed with his decision and pulled her closer to him.

He waited for her to open her eyes, hoping to see something other than regret there, and wasn't disappointed. Though she looked stunned by their actions, there was an undeniable joy there that made him question why he'd taken so long to act.

"I make no promises," he told her seriously, "but I will try to smile at kittens."

She blinked as though she'd forgotten her mouth could also be used for communication. Hardy felt a rare rush of pride.

"You really are shit at this."

"But I am honest."

Miller giggled and dropped her arms to rest on his shoulders. It felt natural and Hardy's mouth curled into a smile. He suspected he could ride this giddy high for the rest of the week.

"Miller, would you - um - do you want to get something to eat maybe? With me?" he clarrified when she pulled her brows together in confusion.

"We ate less than an hour ago."

"Could get a snack?" he suggested, hoping he wasn't coming across as desperate. She was still happy to be in his arms and he took that as a positive sign. "There's a Greggs over the road."

Miller pulled a face. "Are you asking me on a date to _Greggs?_ "

"Maybe," he answered, cringing. "Are you saying yes?"

Despite the utterly shite offer he'd made her, Miller bit her lip as though considering it. "I wanted to be back for when Tom gets in from school," she said kindly.

"Oh."

"Another time?"

Hardy knew his eyebrows had shot up his forehead and just hoped she hadn't noticed. "Okay."

"But dinner."

"Right."

"Not Greggs."

"So we're doing this then?" he asked loudly. There was only so much ribbing he could take, even over something that made him feel as though he was floating two feet above the ground.

Miller pursed her lips and made a point of looking him over. She couldn't keep the cheeky grin off her face as she exhaled and pulled him closer. They were still making eye contact when she spoke next, her voice filled with resignation, though her eyes were dancing with anticipation.

"God help me," she murmured as she brought her mouth to his again.

As he kissed her back (something that was surprisingly difficult with her smiling so much), Hardy dreaded the moment they would part and he'd have to watch her drive away again. She'd promise to text him and he'd probably phone her back straight away, already starved of her voice after only a couple of hours apart.

His world had been ripped apart and flipped upside down with an alarming frequency in recent years, but it was only now that he didn't know which way was up. He didn't know if he was flying or falling but couldn't care less. The road ahead wouldn't be smooth, but he wasn't nearly naive enough anymore to think it would be and neither was Miller. All he knew was that this was his life and he was finally living it again.

 _You say you never want to be saved_

 _Well, that's okay because I wouldn't know how_

 _Just know that the best that I'll ever be_

 _Is whatever you make me wherever you are_

 _-Frank Iero_

* * *

 _Thanks for reading!_


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